Pain. Sharp and burning at the base of his skull. That was Qiu Dingjie's first awareness as consciousness returned. His second realization came immediately after—the cold bite of metal around his wrists.

His eyes snapped open, pupils contracting as they adjusted to the dim lighting. He was in an elegant bedroom, lying on an expensive rug beside a king-sized bed. His arms were stretched above his head, chained to the bed frame with what appeared to be solid steel restraints. His ankles were similarly bound together, limiting his movement.

Rage surged through him instantly—a hot, volcanic fury that threatened to overwhelm his training and control. How dare someone chain him like this? How dare they think they could contain him?

He tugged against the restraints, testing their strength. They held, but the metal creaked slightly under his immense strength, giving him some satisfaction.

"Not bad," he muttered, his voice rough with disuse. "Not good enough, but not bad."

The last thing he remembered was the charity event—the champagne, the elegant guests, the target he'd been assigned to eliminate. He'd been closing in when everything went black.

Now he was here, a prisoner in some stranger's home. The humiliation of it burned almost as much as the rage.

A soft sound from across the room caught his attention. He turned his head sharply, his gaze locking onto the doorway where someone stood watching him.

His expression transformed from fury to a dangerous smirk as he took them in.

"Finally decided to show yourself?" he said, his voice dropping to a lower, more menacing register. "Come closer. Let me get a good look at the person who thinks they can keep Qiu Dingjie captive."